Finding Home
by DreamersMyth27
Summary: Bruce Wayne was known for being a player. That was why it wasn't exactly news when he announced that he'd had a son with someone. The name of the boy's mother was never made aware to the general public, but they never really wondered about it.


**This is completely based on CaptainOzone's fic** Like Fudge **. It's a wonderful read and I completely recommend it to anyone and everyone who loves the Batfamily. I have asked permission to use their idea from chapter four. I didn't keep it super similar though. Mostly I just used the premise that Damian lived with Bruce before being taken away and taught all his assassin stuff.**

 **I hope everyone likes it! Also, I think some of them might be a little OOC, but overall I think they stay pretty true. Dick especially may act kinda weird during one scene, but I think it's because of pain and frustration more than anything else.**

* * *

Bruce Wayne was known for being a player. That was why it wasn't exactly news when he announced that he'd had a son with someone. The name of the boy's mother was never made aware to the general public, but they never really wondered about it.

The son's name was Damian Wayne. Damian Wayne lived with his father, and it was a common sight to see Bruce Wayne going to work with the child and bring him to the zoo. When Damian Wayne was 2 years old he went missing from his bed.

It made national television. Bruce Wayne appeared and begged for whoever took his son to return him. _Begged_. It was a sad sight. Even in Gotham, people turned out by the thousands to look for the boy.

No one found anything until a month later. There was a body. It was under the dock. DNA confirmed the body belonged to Damian Wayne. Along with the body was a note, telling Bruce Wayne that he knew what he did, ending an arms deal with LexCorp.

* * *

No one thought much about the case after it ended other than to feel bad for Bruce Wayne. He'd lost his parents and his son. It was a tragedy. Trouble seemed to follow him around everywhere he went.

Then four years later, Bruce Wayne became the guardian of an orphaned circus boy named Dick Grayson.

After becoming the ward of Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson heard about the tragic tale of Damian Wayne. How could he not? He'd always wanted to ask Bruce, but something stopped him. He wasn't scared to ask, but he had the feeling it was private. Not for him to ask.

Really, his questions were only answered when he spotted Alfred going into the room that used to belong to Damian when Dick was thirteen. The door was plain. Inside the room was a nursery. Not overdone or looking like it belonged to a spoiled brat. There was a Bambi poster on the wall and a cow stuffed animal with a name tag that said: 'Batcow'.

"This was Damian's room?" Dick asked.

"Yes," Alfred said stiffly. "This was a favorite room of Master Bruce's once upon a happier time ago."

"I think I would have liked to have a little brother," Dick said thoughtfully. "Who was his mother?"

Alfred sighed deeply.

"You don't have to answer," Dick said quickly.

"No, you would have found out anyway," Alfred said sadly. "It's in her file. Talia al Ghul was Master Damian's mother."

Dick's eyebrows climbed up his forehead. "Ra's al Ghul's daughter?"

"They briefly shared a passionate romance. Nine months after Master Bruce returned, she arrived on the doorsteps with a baby named Damian. She said it would be best he was raised here." Alfred closed his eyes and set the duster down on the dresser. "She was here for the funeral. I believe she shed a few tears."

"How old would he be now?" Dick asked.

Alfred opened his eyes and resumed dusting. "Ten years old today."

"Oh."

There wasn't really much else to say and Dick had the feeling Alfred wanted to be alone with his thoughts. He left the room and walked down the hallway slowly, deep in thought.

* * *

It was on the 7th of July that Talia asked to meet with him in a hotel. The scene was familiar. Them, together, alone, in a fancy hotel. But that wasn't what she was here for. He could tell. She wasn't tense, not exactly. But she was wary and biting her upper lip.

"Beloved," she greeted. Her red dress was tight and had a long slit up the leg. She wasn't expecting a fight tonight.

"Talia," he greeted, nodding his head. While he didn't agree with her lifestyle, she would always be the mother of his son. He still loved her. He always would. And they had shared the loss together.

"You need to meet someone," she said, a strange look on her face. "He's in danger right now. Come out, darling."

Out of the shadows in a different room stepped a child no more than ten. He was a boy, with close-cropped black hair and green eyes. Bruce knew who this was. His son. The one he'd thought dead. His heart thumped against his chest and it took all he had not to surge forward and engulf the boy in his arms.

The boy, Damian's, eyes raked over him with something akin to boredom. He was wearing a simple black shirt and loose pants. It was the uniform all members of the League of Assassins wore. He had a katana hanging behind him on a belt.

"Father," he finally greeted stiffly. "I thought you'd be taller."

Bruce turned an angry glare on Talia, but she seemed unaffected. She stepped forward and placed a hand on Damian's shoulder, looking Bruce in the eyes definitely.

"This is Damian. He is our son."

"I'm aware," Bruce said cooly. His mind was spinning. Talia had taken Damian from him? She'd been the one to give him the child in the first place. It didn't make sense. And Damian seemed unaware he'd spent the first two years of his life with Bruce, if how Talia was wording everything was any clue.

"He's here to learn from you. After all, you are the World Greatest Detective." Something in Talia's cold smile was unsettling. She surely had a reason to be doing this, but at the moment, Bruce couldn't bring himself to care. He had his son back.

"Is that all you're here for, Talia?"

"Is it so hard to believe I just want you to know your son?" she asked with wide eyes.

"Yes, especially considering-"

"Think carefully about what you are about to say," Talia warned. "Damian knows all he needs to. Anything further is unnecessary."

"Talia."

"Don't look at me like that, beloved. He will live with you for a time, as long as you don't share what you were about to say. You know I'm not lying."

Bruce looked her over before sighing. "Fine."

* * *

"I'll drive."

"No."

"I know how."

"No!"

Bruce had the urge to massage his temple. This boy wasn't the smiling son he remembered. This boy frowned and seemed to constantly be on guard. _Talia, what have you done?_

"What do you know about me?" he asked.

Damian looked out the window at the passing street. "I know you're Bruce Wayne. I know you're the greatest detective according to Grandfather. You are an accomplished warrior. You stop those wishing to plunge the city into darkness and turn it into a cesspool of crime."

Bruce hurt. This was so wrong. Damian had been a happy toddler. Always smiling. Always laughing. He'd called Bruce 'daddy'. This image of an angry little boy who most definitely had a few knives on him was wrong. And that was why it hurt.

What was worse was that he didn't know that as a child his favorite movie was Bambi. Or that he had a stuffed bear that he dragged everywhere. He didn't remember the times Bruce would simply sit and hold him close.

"What do you like to do?" he asked, because he could hope that maybe Talia hadn't done as much damage as he assumed. Maybe Damian had still had a childhood.

Damian's brow furrowed as if he was thinking hard before he finally answered. "I am quite adept at various martial arts as well as duelling. That's how I was allowed to meet you. I beat mother in a dual."

Bruce's heart clenched. His son didn't even know how to play anymore.

"That's not an answer. What do you like to do that isn't asked of you?"

Damian huffed and didn't say anything.

* * *

When they arrived in the Batcave, Bruce was quick to call Alfred down, warning him about a guest. He watched as Damian exited the Batmobile slowly and looked around. His eyes roamed slowly. His posture made him look bored, but there was something else there too. Caution. Even fear. It made Bruce's heart clench. What had Talia done to him?

"Master Bruce, you called?" Alfred asked from behind him. Bruce didn't jump, though he hadn't heard Alfred coming either.

Bruce finally pulled his cowl down and turned to look at Alfred. The butler was watching Damian with curious eyes. He obviously didn't recognize the child yet. It was hard without seeing his face.

"That's Damian," Bruce said, gesturing at the boy, who'd approached the dinosaur.

Alfred raised an eyebrow.

"I tested his DNA against the files. There are no discrepancies."

"There were none with the body either," Alfred pointed out.

Bruce sighed. "Talia brought him to me. She gave me some information. The body was a clone, exactly like Damian, but with no will or mind. She used it to take him back."

"And why would she do that, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked. He hadn't taken his eyes off the boy yet. "After all, she gave him to you in the first place."

"Her father wanted his heir and she was happy to play along," Bruce said. "She's been twisted. She said that if I told him he was raised by me first, she'd know and take him back."

"So it truly…"

"It's him, Alfred. He's home. He's _alive_!" Bruce exclaimed quietly.

"He's broken," Alfred said softly. There were tears in the corners of his eyes. "He hasn't been a child since he was taken."

"Yes," Bruce agreed. "Could you watch him? I need… I need to explain everything to Dick."

Alfred nodded. "Certainly, Master Bruce."

Bruce left with one last look at his child. It hurt at the same time it made him want to cry tears of joy. Damian was alive and standing right there, but he was also not the child he had been. He'd been trained to kill by Talia. No doubt he had already.

He entered his study still dressed in his uniform. It was technically against the rule for him to be in the Manor in his uniform, but he was sure Alfred wouldn't care. Not now.

He finally found Dick pouting in the dining room.

"Bruce!" Dick exclaimed when he saw him. "Have you decided?"

Bruce shook his head. "No, Dick. It hasn't been three days yet. I'm here to talk with you about something else."

Dick's eyes narrowed. Bruce could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

"What's going on, Bruce?"

"You've heard of Damian?" he asked.

"Yes?" Dick sounded confused. His eyebrows were furrowed in deep thought.

"He's alive. Talia had him this whole time. She faked his death and raised him as an assassin."

"So he's…" Dick trailed off.

"In the Batcave right now. He… he doesn't know that he lived with me for the first two years. You can't tell him for now, not until I'm sure Talia won't come and take him again," Bruce explained.

* * *

Dick walked down the stairs to the Batcave slowly. This was a surreal experience for him. Damian Wayne, the son of his pseudo-father, was alive and here. And he was raised by assassins. _And_ they couldn't mention that if it hadn't been for his _mom_ he would have lived with Bruce the whole time.

He waited on the last step, watching from the shadows. Damian was short. He was also an exact smaller copy of Bruce. It was almost creepy. He caught sight of Damian's scowl, aimed at Alfred, and shuddered. Scratch that, it was creepy. Then Damian turned his scowl towards Dick.

Ugh, creepy assassin child. Of course, he saw Dick. Of course, he'd be _trained_ to spot Dick.

He stepped down the last step and made his way to where Bruce, Damian, and Alfred were gathered. He was careful to stay next to Bruce. Damian's venomous glare was enough to keep him wary of… whatever it was you should be wary about when faced with an assassin-child.

* * *

Damian wasn't expecting his father to be like he was. He expected a great warrior. A fearless individual who did whatever it took to protect his city. And his father was those things. But he was also a gentle man. It seemed like the strangest contradiction. No matter how strange though, it was true.

His father deferred to his servant in many cases and insisted the servant was 'family'. They shared no blood though, so Damian didn't understand. Just like he didn't understand why his father kept the circus brat and called him 'family'.

Grayson was a disgrace to his father. He smiled and laughed and never took anything seriously. He was skilled, Damian would admit that, but he didn't deserve to be called or considered his father's son. The public should have known that.

He couldn't help hating Grayson, really. It was inevitable. Besides, wherever Damian was, his father avoided. He suspected it had something to do with how he was kept a secret and how he came into existence.

It wasn't as easy as he predicted to get Grayson away from everyone though. It turned out that Grayson was part of a _team_ of sidekicks. They worked together to stop villains. It was pathetic.

His father, while avoiding him, was always close enough that an attempt on Grayson's life would be ill-advised. Either that or Pennyworth and while Pennyworth didn't scare Damian and he was sure he could take the man, his father obviously held great affection for the man.

Finally, he determined that the best course of action would be to follow Grayson to the 'base' and ambush him there. His companions couldn't be that formidable. And if they were difficult, Damian was sure he could dispose of them too.

It wasn't hard to hack a zeta beam and enter their pathetic mountain base. It was even easier to find Grayson, relaxing on the couch with the speedster idiot. The fool should have been more aware. He should have been prepared for when Damian dropped down and pulled out his sword.

Instead of trembling in fear or begging for his life as Damian expected, Grayson was foolish enough to let out a sigh. A _sigh_! As if Damian didn't scare him. Damian bared his teeth and leapt forward, only to be held still in midair.

Grayson walked close and grabbed the sword from his hand, looking completely unaffected. Soon others came into view, including the one holding him in the air. Fist a girl with blonde hair. Then a boy with black. An Atlantean. Last of all was the green Martian girl holding her hand out with glowing green eyes.

"We should call the League and tell them about this," the Atlantean said. "They will want to know that the cave has been breached again."

Grayson shook his head and grinned lightly. "Nah. It's fine. I know him."

The blonde girl's eyebrows raised. Damian snarled.

"A villain in Gotham? Isn't he a bit young?" she asked.

"I'm not a villain, you harlot!" Damian exclaimed. "I am Da-"

Grayson clapped a hand over his mouth. "Ignore him. He's my younger brother."

Damian attempted to bite him. Grayson held his mouth shut and stopped the attempt.

"Is it normal for siblings to attack each other with swords?" the black haired boy asked.

"It wasn't on television," the green girl said slowly.

"It's not," the blonde girl sighed. "At all. Unless you've got a messed up family."

"He's a special case," Grayson said, smiling much too brightly for the situation. "I'm just going to go bring him home now."

"That might be wise. Miss Martian?" the Atlantean asked, though it sounded more like a command.

Suddenly Damian felt himself drop to the ground. Immediately, he started to try and push Grayson off, but to no avail. Grayson dragged him back to the zeta beam they arrived in the Batcave. Using this distraction, Damian clamped his mouth down on Grayson's hand, drawing blood.

"You little jerk!" Grayson swore. "That's what I get for trying to keep Bruce from killing you!"

"He wouldn't do that," Damian said, only slightly sure of himself, but he was sure no one would be able to tell. "He might to you though."

"Okay, you little freak," Grayson growled. "First things first, Bruce doesn't kill. That means he doesn't want you to either. Second, don't bite people. Fair warning, I'm not above biting back. Third, get over yourself."

He had the chance to kill Grayson right now, but he was curious what the teen might say. Also, he couldn't let the insults to him stand. And Grayson still had his sword.

"I am the blood son," he proclaimed. "You are merely a foolish, snivelling, orphaned circus brat my father picked up because he was bored."

"Well, you know what, 'blood son'," Grayson mocked, pouring something clear on his bleeding thumb. "At least my mom wasn't a psychopathic murderer who kidnapped a toddler."

"My mother would never stoop so low," Damian sniffed.

"She did for you," Grayson muttered. "I mean, it wasn't like after you were born she gave you to Bruce and told him she wasn't able to care for you then came back when you were two, took you, and used a clone so everyone would think you were dead."

Damian bared his teeth. "You don't know anything, Grayson."

"Don't I?" Grayson asked rhetorically. "Go ask your ' _father_ ' about it. I've gotta clean this and wrap it. I'd prefer to do so without having to worry about dying."

Damian sneered one last time before exiting the Batcave and entering the Manor. There was no one in sight. He couldn't hear anyone either. Wherever his father was, it wasn't anywhere downstairs.

He made a sharp turn and left the study, taking the staircase upstairs. Down the hall near the end, a room door was open. Damian walked slowly towards it. Once he reached, he looked inside and saw a child's room. Something that would have belonged to a toddler.

On the dresser was a picture of his father with a happy, smiling baby. Another picture showed his father holding a small boy dressed in overalls and pointing at a cow. Yet another picture showed his father laughed and tickling a baby.

The child in every picture was the same one. Green eyes, black hair, tan skin, and haughty nose. Damian wasn't dumb. He knew enough to be able to put together clues. He'd been trained to take over as Batman eventually.

Damian had grown up here. Grayson had been telling the truth. And his mother had lied to him for every day of his life as long as he could remember. There has to be a reason. She wouldn't just… she was his mother.

* * *

Eventually, Damian approached his father, but only after thinking for a long time. He couldn't… she was his mother. Why would she do something so cruel and baseless? Why wouldn't she raise him herself? Why? Why? Why?

He asked his father, and for the first time he could ever remember, his father knelt down and hugged him. Then the dam broke. And Damian couldn't stop crying. His mother loved him. She'd said so. She'd promised. But she'd lied. She didn't want to deal with him before she had to.

"I'm sorry, father," Damian whispered.

"I am too," his father whispered back.


End file.
